


Bury Me In Your Arms And Give Me Peace

by astrangetypeofchemistry



Series: Femslash February 2017 [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Chlolya? Chlolya., DJWifi is dead for all you folks out there, Day 2: Asleep, F/F, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 16:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9558131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangetypeofchemistry/pseuds/astrangetypeofchemistry
Summary: Day 2 of Femslash February 2017. Featuring Chlolya.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Join [the challenge](http://puff-pink.tumblr.com/post/155819138494/puff-pink-i-made-my-own-feel-free-to-use-for) if you want to.

Chloé looked adorable with her face smushed onto the marble counter, Alya noted with amusement. 

She’d come over to drop off a box full of Nino’s things, unappreciative of the way they had been crowding her room. They’d broken up  _ months ago _ , dammit, and there was no way she was letting anyone have a reason to assume she was still hung up on him. She was well moved on, thank you very much. 

So she’d walked over here, knowing this was the best time if she didn’t want to catch Nino, letting herself in with the key she still hadn’t returned to him. She knew Adrien had moved in a few weeks ago, and if her memory served her well, Marinette had been pouty about Chloé hogging all of Adrien’s free time. 

Of course, it’s not like Alya particularly thought it would concern her, so she hadn’t anticipated that she would run into Chloé.

Or that the blonde would be asleep.

Or that she would look so  _ c u t e _ . 

Her hair was a mess, face bare of any makeup, and, if Alya’s vision served her well, the clothes she was wearing were definitely some of Adrien’s older ones. 

If the implication that Chloé was having problems with her father was any true, sleeping in uncomfortable positions probably wasn’t going to help her any, and Alya vowed to helped her move into a more lounge-worthy posture. She did owe Chloé for a prior favor. 

She was ready to finally book the hell out of there when she managed to finally lay Chloé down on what was definitely a new bed, only facing a small, teensy, minor problem: Chloé’s hand had grasped onto her wrist. 

She had a pretty tight grip, Alya marveled, but at that point it was more of a pain in the ass than anything. She needed to go, before Nino walked in and realized she’d returned all his stuff.  The breakup was amicable, sure, but to awkwardly remind your friend about the failed relationship that hung between you was just. Uncomfortable for all parties involved.

But, with Alya’s luck, Chloé’s death grip on her wrist was nowhere close to letting up, and now she’d taken to mumbling “Don’t go.” And just. Alya’s entire week has been hell. Heck, her  _ year _ has been hell.  A relationship she’d had for  _ years _ just came to an end, and she’s stressed from all the work that’s been piling up, causing her to be too busy to even hang out with friends and family. 

Now she’s standing here, with her somewhat friend begging her to stay. Frankly, Alya would like to divulge in this somewhat selfish act of sleeping during the day as well. 

She laid down on the large bed, facing Chloé and scooting closer so her arm wouldn’t tire. It only took a moment, with the sunlight streaming into the room and Chloé’s vanilla scent, to finally fall asleep.

Even when she woke up hours later to Chloé screaming in her face, Alya still felt more at peace than she had locked away in her home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to send me prompts on [tumblr](http://www.queerinette.com), I'm lonely and have no friends.


End file.
